


Sounds Are Important

by martinsbae



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinsbae/pseuds/martinsbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another fanfic of johnlock cause I like that shit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm doing the look again

This stops today. All of this stops today. I can't do this any more, and I won't. These fantasies are exactly that; a fantasy. He's across the room from me, with his aura of power emanating off of his bloody high cheekbones. He's dressed as he always is, the signature people have come to know and awe. The long black coat points out sharply against the light, causing his defined silhouette to look like something meaningful, as if the power of his very appearance could make his work come resolved into his long and slender fingers. He's deep in thought, with his hands in front of his face and his eyes closed to everything and everyone.

I should stop looking at him. I know I should. Currently I am in the kitchen with a cup of tea not drunk and gone cold on the counter in front of me with my eyes fixed and mouth slightly open gazing at him. I do this whenever he goes to his “mind palace” or wherever it is his mind goes, I look and I watch. And each time I do I think I fall in love with him a little more. But he is Sherlock Holmes and he has no relationships. I know this. God knows I've spent a long enough time with him to understand that his emotions differ from my own and a good many other people's. People resent him for it. I celebrate it. But there is always that nagging thought in the corner of my mind. It appears in times like this, when I am in awe of him; the thought of hope.

My thoughts are brought to an end when he gasps with as much excitement as a 5 year old boy on a Christmas morning, his hands open in front of his face and the quirk of a smile appears. It is always a pleasure to witness, when Sherlock has solved something or someone. God, I have to stop this. He breathes a sigh of happiness and, at his newly acquired self confidence and arrogance, shrugs of his coat like a King would. At this a snort escapes me and it draws the attention of the silver-blue eyes of the detective, alerted to my presence.

“John? How long have you been...?” he doesn’t finish the sentence. Shit. I was looking at him for too long and now I am plunged into this awkwardness. We pass some seconds like this, and in his eyes I see the faint hint of comprehension. I am so afraid by this I cannot face him any longer and escape to my room without saying a word. I could feel his eyes boring into my back the whole time I ran up the stairs.


	2. Mutual Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is going alrighty for ya and cheers for reading mon frères x

It's hard to open my eyes, they are sealed by sleep and my thoughts are unwilling to let me wake. But I do, somehow. My thoughts are distracted the whole while I get dressed and walk to work, hoping that the look in Sherlock's eyes was just a dream I desperately created or hoping he'll either forget it or not mention it. But as my work day wore on tirelessly, with patients arriving by the minute, I realised I wanted that look to return. _Perhaps now he'll understand..._

I don't know why the day wore on but it seemed like the next week it finally reached finishing time. I was walking home in the light rain and the strong wind when my phone buzzed.

 _Message from Holmes, Sherlock_ it read. I clicked open and was absorbed in the message that I bumped a fair few people along the street, causing curses to be thrown at me.

_When will you be home? I think we need to talk._  
 _SH_

Fuck. It didn't blow over then. I carried on walking home as slow as possible, knowing I have to face him sometime but not wanting too. The time passed quicker than usual and suddenly I was at the door of 221B. I knew he was watching me from the window upstairs, probably playing his violin as he does when he thinks. I didn't risk my eyes looking up at him though.

When I reached the living room I was surprised that Sherlock did not seem in the least flustered or thoughtful, he was in a happy mood. I knew him well enough to recognise it.

“Ah John, good day was it?” he said lightly, sitting down in his armchair after putting down his violin. I was right then. So he has been thinking, this easiness is just a farce. If anyone else but me, they would be fooled by this piece of impeccable acting.  
“Since when do you ask how my day's been?” I said lightly with a chuckle.  
“Yes, it didn't seem like me did it?” he said as he crossed his legs and put his hands in front of his face. His thinking stance again, I knew he was inspecting me. I sat down too with more calmness than I felt and leant forwards on the chair with my arms on the rests.  
“You seem very calm” he said as his silvery eyes took in my posture. It seemed to me that he was the one not calm, his breath was slightly ragged and his eyes looked anywhere but at mine.  
“Why shouldn't I be?” I said smiling. I was enjoying this more each minute, it's not often our positions are reversed.  
“You have perfect reason to be a little flustered considering what happened this morning and what's been happening quite regularly for a while.” he had me here, I cleared my throat slightly.  
“What...? What do you mean? What's been happening regularly?” he gave a sigh and rolled his eyes, obviously pleased that he felt more confident at my being perplexed.  
“Oh it's obvious John, this was going to come out eventually. Every time I go to my mind palace or play my violin or solve a case or do anything else that I do, you're always watching me, aren't you? Whenever we are in close proximity, your breathing becomes erratic, your pupils dilate and your words come out disorganised. I have known for a while that you are attracted to me John.” he says this so quickly that each word is a stab of humiliation in my gut. I don't reply but just nod. Why bother covering it up? I expect him to run away or to get angry or irritable but he doesn't. Perhaps I always knew he wouldn't.

“How would you feel if I told you the feeling was mutual?”


	3. Am I still lying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more to come guys keep reading! x

It takes me a while to process his words. “Mu...Mutual?” I manage to stutter out.  
“Obviously” he fixes his piercing look at me as if trying to read my mind. There is quite an awkward silence until Sherlock pops his mouth with as much arrogance as he can muster. Slightly annoyed at his behaviour, I get up and walk to the kitchen to make dinner, pretending the conversation we just had never happened. I can hear him walk behind me. “What's wrong?” he says with a frown creasing his forehead.  
“You're lying” I say as I open the fridge. Of course there is nothing in there which only enrages me more. I slam it shut and face Sherlock and he cowers slightly at my expression. “Do not play me for a fool Sherlock. Do you think I don't know you well enough by now? You don't feel things that way and certainly not about me. This is one of your experiments, isn't it? Tell me, is Mycroft mind mapping right now about the results of it?” I finish panting slightly. He only looks at me.  
“As ever John, you see but do not observe. I have had feelings for you the moment I called you “friend” instead of “colleague”, when you first called me “amazing” and when you saved my life. Not to mention the many other countless things you've changed about my life. You refuse to believe this because you're afraid.” he finishes smiling as he's never smiled before.

A moment passes as we stare each other down and I don't know how to respond. I think to myself that I need some air and try to walk past Sherlock to leave. He gives a slight gasp of annoyance and grabs me by the shoulder and pushes me against the wall. “SHERLO-” I try to shout but am stopped by him pressing his lips on mine and I am pushed further onto the wall. 

It starts off slow and soft. Sherlock has very limited experience with this but neither do I, never having been with a man. But then it changes. I forget everything. I forget my worries and my fears and my self denial. I just see him. I can feel the slight stubble along his jaw and am extremely aware that this is a man kissing me. But it's Sherlock, wonderful, enigmatic Sherlock. The excitement of it shoots straight to my groin. My hands curl inside his thick black hair and I tilt his head back as I kiss along his jaw and throat, dipping my tongue. He gasps and I love it. But he again smashes his lips to mine, his excitement overcoming the desire to be skilled. His tongue traces along my lower lip and I tremble and breathe heavily. I meet his tongue with my own and the feeling almost overcomes me. It is a fumble of hands and I unwillingly let Sherlock break away to gasp.

His face is so close to mine and I can almost see myself reflected in those silver eyes. His lips quirk up at the state of me, flustered and with an embarrassing something making itself known in my trousers. “Am I still lying?” he whispers.


End file.
